


Well It Better Be Black, and it Better be Tight

by DisenchantedHalo (Morgawse)



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Crossdressing, Dom Gerard Way, Erotic Electrostimulation, Established Relationship, Flogging, Light BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Control, Power Exchange, Restraints, Sub Frank Iero
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 07:51:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16530443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgawse/pseuds/DisenchantedHalo
Summary: How much trouble can Frank’s smart mouth land him in after he has been denying that Gerard, with a new-found desire to cross-dress, could still be a good dominant? Gerard has a whole evening planned to show him just how much he is going to pay for the smart-ass comments and boundary pushing.





	Well It Better Be Black, and it Better be Tight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance/gifts).



> This was originally supposed to be PWP - more a Frank-N-Furteresque Gerard having some light BDSM fun with Frank, inspired by a little phrase I heard somewhere a few weeks ago, but it evolved into this instead!
> 
> So, as well as being gifted to the awesome (even if they refuse to accept their awesomeness) MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance, this story is dedicated to someone who isn’t on AO3 and will never read it. You are one of the bravest, most compassionate, understanding and open-minded men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. Yes, it is perfectly possible to be a gentle male who likes to cross-dress in private and still be a commanding dominant.
> 
> I think I got all the typos and other errors, if not apologies.

I stretched my leg over the edge of the bathtub, watching the bubbles slowly pop and disappear as I admired my feet. Yesterday’s vibrant red varnished pedicure stood out, thankfully smudge-free, against my pale skin. It had been fun keeping that colour hidden last night. A relaxed sigh passed my lips as I sank deeper into the warm water, allowing the sensual scent of jasmine and vanilla to fill my nostrils. This had to be one of the best ways to end a stressful day of client negotiations. But, as relaxing as it was, I could not stay here. I had to prepare for the evening ahead with Frank. He needed a reminder of who is in control. As I had been more open about my desire to cross-dress, he had begun pushing the boundaries of our agreed lifestyle and being both self-conscious and absorbed with my journey; I had let him get away with it. Not tonight, I chuckled.

Hoisting myself upright, I leant over to grab a towel from the heated rail. As I stepped out of the tub, I wrapped the towel around my waist, then grabbed another to dry my hair. One hand dried my hair, while the other swept across the steamed-up mirror. Staring at my reflection, I imagined how I would do my make-up - the palest of complexions and a smoky eye set off to perfection with a splash of fire hydrant red across the lips. Completing the look would have to wait until after I had dinner in the oven, but that gave me ample time to go over my plans, making sure that every little detail was perfect. Ensuring that it all dovetailed together in a lesson Frankie would not forget for a long time.

I quickly slipped on some clean sweatpants and a t-shirt to go downstairs. Walking through the bedroom, I felt my eyes drawn to our bed. A thrill pulsed through me as I anticipated the sensation of lace and silk against my skin. I pictured the way that the corset would add to my already slightly feminine curves, the way that the dress’s halter neck would show my shoulders off to best effect, then how the skirt would skim tightly over my hips and full thighs, ending above the knee with just enough room to walk in. I hoped the dress would live up to its name, creating a wiggle to my walk and not a waddle. Skipping down the stairs, I made a mental note to check that my stocking seams were straight both before and after I put the dress on.

“Breaded eggplant, buffalo mozzarella…’open wounds on your brow’ …marinara sauce…’she isn’t loving you anymore’…where’s the pecorino?” 

The oven, having been on to heat up while I bathed, was at temperature and ready for the eggplant parmesan. I know, I used pecorino instead of parm – we digest it better, ok? It looked decent after I had assembled it, even if I do say so myself.

“Salad bowl…’kiss me there, kiss me there, scream and shout’…where the heck did he put the vinaigrette. It’s not that difficult; it goes on the third door shelf down. Calm Gerard, all good, it’s not that big of a…aha there it is.”

My little sing-a-long to random I-tunes tracks was interrupted by a text:  
On my way now – should be about 20 if traffic is ok. 

“Holy crap. So little time, so much gorgeousness still to create.” I fled back upstairs, attempting two stairs at a time without falling flat on my face. My hair, nails and face all needed doing, that was probably enough to take up all that time without having to squeeze myself into the clothes. A genius idea struck me:

Can you stop off at the grocery store? Forgot the pecans for the salad.

I had not originally intended to use said nuts but needs must when Frankie’s driving home and I’m still in sweats!

Frank even managed to foil that plan. I was only just beginning to fix my final false nail when I heard his car pull up outside. Praying that it would hold, I grabbed everything that I needed to make my first impression. I raced down the stairs – not easy in that dress, let me tell you - hoping to make it look as though I had been ready for ages and not the flustered mess I was. The gods were on my side for once. By the time Frank had made it into the hallway, I was there, a picture of pure feminine elegance, perfectly composed. My favourite riding crop dangled from my right hand, tapping my stockinged calf.

“Hey, Gee! I managed to…get…those…um…did I miss something?” Frank faltered as he proffered the unnecessary bag of pecans at me.

Trying desperately not to smirk, I took a step forward.

“Why, thank you, Frankie. Most kind of you.” I snapped the crop down; it whistled through the air just to the side of Frank’s outstretched hand. “I think though, my dear, you may have become a little too familiar recently. Perhaps forgotten how to address me properly?”

Judging by the look on Frank’s face, I could tell he had not been expecting this. Oh, the evening was going to be so much fun.

“Now, do I need to remind you of our arrangement? Those things that you agreed to?”

“No, Sir.” Frank lowered his eyes to the ground and clasped his hands behind his back.

“Good. That’s a little better.” I had to contain myself and not go all in too soon. Shame, but the wait would be worth it. “No, shifting your weight around. Stand still until I tell you to move.” Frank’s nervous habit of shifting his weight from foot to foot, while so adorable, was such an easy target.

“Why don’t you put the pecans in the kitchen for me. Then get undressed. I expect you back in the kitchen in 5, with your collar and leash for me. Understood?”

Frank nodded, still examining the floor.

“I asked you a question, Little One. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“4 minutes and counting,” I observed.

Frank bolted into the kitchen and then up the stairs. I had not seen him move so fast in months. I chuckled quietly as I prepared myself for Phase 2. 

He was back down in three minutes. Of course, I timed him! I had made it slightly easier for him, having set the collar and leash out on his bedside table, so he did not have to hunt for it. I might have been teaching him a lesson, but I am not a complete ass.

“Very good.” I ran a hand along his jaw, before taking his collar and fastening it around his neck. “Rules for this evening:  
1 You will not sit on furniture unless I give you permission  
2 You will not speak unless I ask you a direct question  
3 Later, upstairs, you will stay still and not let any sound pass your lips. I won’t be gagging you.  
4 You won’t come at all tonight, and you will have to control it all yourself as I’m not putting a cock ring on you.  
I think that’s all unless I see a need to add to the list. There will be repercussions for any rules you break. Do you need me to repeat anything? You may speak.”

“No, Sir.” Frank opened his mouth to say something more, then thought better of it.

I realised, following his gaze, that he had spotted that only one place was set for dinner even though the smell of the eggplant parm was wafting deliciously through the kitchen. I pointed to a spot by the fridge, where there was a bowl of salad, now with added pecans, and a plastic beaker of water.

“Serve me first. Then you may go eat what I have served you.” When his back was turned, I allowed myself a grin that I had been holding back. “Next time,” I sneered as my plate almost thudded down in front of me, “can you try and do that without the attitude?” I did not bother to look for a response. “Too bad. I was thinking of letting you have coffee, but hey,” I shrugged, tucking into my dinner with gusto. My during dinner entertainment? Surreptitious glances at Frank sitting, naked bar his collar, with his back against the refrigerator as he attempted to eat a salad, sans dressing, without cutlery and failed miserably to not stare begrudgingly at me as I scoffed my food.

***********************  
You have no idea how hard it is to carry a mug of coffee and a riding crop while holding onto a leash, and endeavouring to maximise the swing in your hips while balancing unsteadily on stiletto heels in a skirt that only allows the tiniest of steps before it unceremoniously reminds you of its limitations. So worth it though! The effect on Frank was a sight worth seeing.

I made him stop just inside the door of the living room, with a full view of my rear as I bent down to place my coffee on the table and pick up the TV remote. Turning to face him, I realised I needed to add another rule – one so obvious, I almost smacked myself upside the head for forgetting to state it earlier. 

“Rule number 5: No touching yourself. That includes covering yourself up.”

Frank sheepishly removed his hands from over his crotch. Of course, there behind his hands was a growing erection. A strange phenomenon for someone who decried their partner’s love for cross-dressing, but one I had hoped that this evening would produce.

“My, my, my, Little One. What are we going to do with you? At this rate, you won’t be coming for the whole weekend.”

“But, Gee…Sir...” he blurted out before catching sight of my raised eyebrow. Almost instantly he was on his knees, head bowed and hands behind his back.

“Ok, so that’s a definite ‘no’ till Sunday then. Oh, and don’t forget we’re at Mikey’s most of the day.”

Something was starting to click, because his posture didn’t change, nor did his mouth twitch, even though I guessed it was killing him not to remonstrate with me about the harshness of my pronouncement. Well, the little shit had about a month’s worth of sass to pay for. Consequently, I did not feel any remorse for what I was dishing out. Besides, there was more to come after I had made him endure one of my favourite movies, one that he hated with a passion, Interview with the Vampire. I mean, have you seen Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt in that movie?

“Come over here. You can kneel beside me.” I said sweetly, as I perched myself on the couch. I would have loved simply to plonk myself down, but neither would the dress, nor the image I wanted to maintain for the evening, allow it. Still, I felt pretty in it, and there was no denying how much I loved the feel of the silk and lace underwear against my skin. 

About a third of the way through the movie, I could see Frank start to wiggle, shifting his weight around. His hands were now in front of his body, not behind his back. Was he up to something he should not be?

“What’s going on there? Is there something you would like to tell me? To ask me?”

Frank craned his neck to look at me. I would allow the direct eye contact; he was doing his best to display pain, but I was not buying it. His movements were too subtle.

“Go on. It’s ok, tell me what’s wrong.”

“My knees, my thighs - they’re hurting” he whinged. There was still the slightest undertone of defiance in his voice. Vindicated! Faker!

“I’m so sorry to hear that, Frank,” I exclaimed in mock concern. “So, it’s not just the pain of having to watch this?” I nodded to the TV. Gently I yanked on his leash, pulling him closer to me. “Don’t think you’re getting away with that feeble attempt to get yourself up here on the couch with me. You’re staying put.” Feeling generous, I passed him a couple of throw pillows. “Kneel on one, sit on the other,” I instructed, letting the slack back into the leash. My solution kept him still for the remainder of the movie. Well, there was the occasional fidget but not enough to point it out and disrupt my viewing fun again.

***********************  
Knowing I had emotionally tortured him enough for one night, I wiggled up the stairs. Frank trailed a leash-length behind, holding the crop behind his back. His eyes were hopefully trained on my carefully enhanced plump ass, squeezed into the figure-hugging black dress. I had one more stop to make before the main act. 

Frank’s eyes darted around the guest bathroom as if looking for something. Nothing was out of place, nor was there anything new in there. Of course, there was nothing unusual about it. We had agreed that, other than semen, all other bodily fluid play was a hard limit for both of us. I guessed the covert searching was to see whether there was some sign that I was going to test those limits. No. I had a more old-fashioned method of punishment awaiting my smart-mouthed angel. I unclipped the leash, placing it on the floor.

“You may place the crop down next to your leash. Come closer.”

Frank complied immediately. The uncertainty still apparent in his face.

“I want you to take my dress off and hang it on the hook over the door. You will then assume your position on your knees beside me.”

I placed myself in front of the mirror so that I could watch him over my shoulder. The touch of his tender yet calloused hands almost made me shiver, as he fought to pull the dress down over my curves, but I remained still. 

“Wow. Stunning.” It was meant to be under his breath. His lips barely moved. But I heard him all right. My dick twitched at the sound and the lust that flickered in his eyes. This was indeed what I had hoped for. The sight of me primped, preened and in control, every slightly feminine part of me accentuated to the max, had succeeded. Despite his teasing, the sight of me in lingerie was a turn on.

“Did you say something, Sweetheart?” I enquired, still facing the mirror. “I’m sure I made myself clear about speaking without permission. Did you not understand?”

His eyes still focused on my back; he shook his head.

“Use your words, Little One. I asked you a question.”

“Um…I…it just popped out. I…er…I did understand. Sorry, Sir.”

“Hmm, well. That mouth of yours has been working overtime the last month, hasn’t it? That was rhetorical – my opinion on this is the only one that counts.” I added before Frank could open his mouth again. “I have a way of making sure that bratty little boys who make insensitive comments about people and can’t control their mouths remember the consequences for doing so. Hurry up and hang the dress up.”

The dress carefully placed on the hook, Frank knelt beside me, head bowed. His position may have looked submissive, but I could see that he was still eyeing me in my lingerie, eyes stealing upward glances to take in the sight of the pronounced strain my cock was putting on my black lace panties.

“Open up!” I pointed at his mouth.

Very slowly, Frank began to open his mouth. His eyes wide. I think some part of him thought I would not go through with it. A sick and twisted part of me was amused to see that this was having more effect on him than perhaps anything I else I had done or would do this evening. I reached out a perfectly manicured hand to pick up the half-used bar of soap. Frank’s eyes had lost their lustful glint, that was now replaced by trepidation as if questioning whether I was truly going to use that manky bar to wash out his mouth. I answered his query with a smug smile. My hand was almost around the bar when I withdrew it and crouched down to get a new bar of peppermint castile soap from the cupboard under the sink.

“Wider,” I ordered as I unwrapped the bar. “I’ve seen you take things bigger than this bar of soap in that filthy mouth of yours.” I turned on the faucet, letting the water warm up slightly while I held the bar under Frank’s nose. The smell of peppermint was strong even from where I was. With his mouth open like that and the bar in such proximity, I figured that Frank would already understand the additional tingling sensation that would come from the peppermint. Once the water was warm enough, I ran the bar under the faucet so that when I ran my fingers over it, they would become coated in the soap. I was not going to put the whole bar in Frank’s mouth, no matter how much I liked making him think that was the plan. Instead, with my fingers lathered up, I ran them over every inch of his mouth, going back to the bar a couple of times for ultimate effect.

“Keep those hands where they are. I see them go anywhere near your mouth, or you try to spit the taste out - I will go around again.” Another pre-emptive strike. At times like these, he was so easy to read. I loved the spark that made him Frank, the one that tested the boundaries of our power exchange. On occasions, he was totally submissive and pliable; other times it felt like he wanted to be made to submit; others he was just plain bratty. Here and now the brat was rising. Defiant, convinced that, even though his mouth and body had betrayed him, the views he held over the impossibility of a cross-dressing dominant existing or being sexy were right. If I asked him outright, he would defend his insolent behaviour and inappropriate quips over the last month, but I had a cure for that lined up.

***********************  
Time for the finale. I was sure Frank thought I had punished him enough for one night and that now I would relent and the fun (for him) would begin. Hah, how wrong could he be! I had one or two more tricks up my metaphorical sleeve.

“Prone on the bed arms and legs apart.” Frank slunk towards the bed, taking his sweet time to position himself as comfortably as he could in that position. “You know how much I love it when you move that slowly. I don’t remember patience being one of my virtues, do you? I’m sure I can match your pace, if would you like? I can make this last all night.” The harsh edge to my tone provoked a vigorous shake of the head. 

As I secured his wrists and fastened the straps to the spreader bar, I reminded him, “You can use Spider if you need to, ok? You remember the other rules? Speak.”

“Yes. Thank you, Sir.”

No need to do anything other than getting straight down to it. I had hidden the toys I wanted to use under the bed so that they were close at hand, but Frank did not need to know that. My pretence of indecision would add to the tension; it would prevent him from mentally preparing himself for what was going on. 

“Hmm, ok where to start?” I paced around the room a couple of times, making suggestions and then rejecting them, messing with his head. I threw out thoughts of knife and wax play, musings about just leaving him like that, and debating whether there was any fresh ginger left in the kitchen. 

There was a very audible gasp as Frank tried not to flinch away when he found out that I had made my mind up, as the cold, slicked-up vibrator nudged at his entrance. 

“Forgotten number 3 already?” I let it sit there for a moment, allowing the understanding to sink in that he was going to have to take this without any stretching. 

I studied Frank’s face, which he had turned to the side, as I began to push the vibrator further in. The discomfort was evident, as he screwed his eyes up and tensed his jaw as he struggled not to let out any other sound.

With the vibrator at its lowest setting, I trailed the deerskin flogger up and down the back of his thighs. I traced lines over his buttocks with the lightest of touch, so light that the sensation must have tickled. I stifled a giggle as Frank tightened his glutes in a vain attempt to shrink away from the feeling, but only succeeded in clenching himself more around the vibrator. I knew I was letting him flout the rules a teensy bit; but it was not the most realistic expectation that I had set for him - to keep stock still, and I also knew what was still to come. 

Satisfied that I had him paying attention to me, I began my warm-up strikes. For me, there was something soothing and vaguely hypnotic in creating the rhythm and the figure eight pattern. The gentle swoosh as the flogger skimmed through the air and the dull thuds as it met skin adding to the ambience. Gradually I put more weight behind it, the sound of leather against skin becoming louder. As that noise increased, so the struggle in Frank decreased. For him, the increasing sensation and steady rhythm lulled him, while faint red lines began to run roughshod over his tattoos.

I stopped before he drifted too far down. Allowing his freefall too soon would spoil my plans. I wrapped my hands around his hips, placing a couple of pillows underneath them, so that his ass was now in the air, primed and ready. Of course, I took the liberty of squeezing his balls and running my nails gently along his shaft a couple of times in the process, as I also removed the vibrator.

“Now, Frankie. I hope you weren’t expecting all pleasure from here on in. Your mouth has paid the price for sass, but you have also broken one too many rules recently, and I have been far too lenient with you, my love. So, before we play, comes the final penance. You so adore my riding crop, I thought it would be fun for you and it to become properly acquainted again. Twenty times will do. I expect you to keep to our agreed rules on moving and sound, except you will count for me, loudly. You stop, you stutter, or I can’t hear you, and I start again.” 

This time, there was no gentles caress, no teasing, no warm up. The crop came down hard and fast with barely enough time for him to count between blows.

“One. Two. Three. F…F…Four…”

“Oh, dear, well let’s try that again shall we, Frankie?” I deliberately left the crop resting on his ass, admiring the welts that had formed just from those four blows, waiting for him to indicate that he knew that he had to start over again.

“…….Nineteen. Twenty.”

“Oh,” I said feigning surprise, “You can actually do what you’re told. Very good, Little One. Shall we continue? No need to answer, because you know I’m going to, irrespective of whatever you might have to say.” I placed a kiss on each welt that the crop had left behind. A little something to reward his good behaviour, while I slipped the pillows out from under him again.

If there was one toy that my darling boy loved, then it was the flogger with the thin knotted tails. I could guarantee that the sting from this would send him right back to the brink in no time at all. Soon, I was back into my stride, watching the rise and fall of his breath as it fell into step with the strikes. Sensing his place of peace, knowing that he craved more and more sensation on his back, it was time to up my game again. 

I had been surprised when he had suggested that he wanted to try electrostimulation, it had not held much interest for me, but I was willing to try most things that could please him, so we had started with a neon wand. I had always wimped out before, using a low setting and one of the electrodes that spread the charge. Frank had never complained, but I suspected he wanted more. Tonight, I determined to be braver for him. So, I turned the wand up to its highest setting and fixed the 90° electrode in place.

I couldn’t remember having so much fun with him in recent time as I hovered over the lines created by the floggers and the crop. The already sensitive areas making that sharp electrical zap so much more intense. The crackle of the charge and the smell of ozone, filling the room so differently from the sound of impact, perhaps reminiscent of that sense of an approaching electrical storm. Wow, we had become quite dull and vanilla in our kink! I was struggling to hold myself back at the sight of him submissive, pliant, slipping further into subspace than I had seen him in many months. He looked content in his skin, my beautiful tattooed angel. I was not sure I would last much longer, the pain in my cock was starting to become unbearable for me. I could hold on though. I knew that my relief would come. 

“Do you think you’ve had enough yet?” Frank’s eyes were blown, he could hardly focus on me, let alone be coherent enough to respond. “No. I don’t think you’ve quite learned your lesson yet because you are addicted to the pain, aren’t you? Maybe it’s time to tease you a little more? What do you say, Frankie?” I waited, knowing he was too far gone to respond intelligibly. “Words, Frankie! Use your words – yes or no will suffice.”

“N…N…No” he whispered.

“I’m not sure I heard that,” I quipped. “Anyway, I think we should continue, so I’m going to unclip you then you can turn over, Little One. I know you can hold on for me, can’t you? Not too much longer and it will all be over You’ve been so well behaved tonight.” After he was on his back, I held his legs up, as I pushed the vibrator back into his delicious, pink hole. This time, I turned it up to the max and moved it around until I knew that it was pressed against Frank’s prostate. 

Now I could find my release. My toes were already curling in my silk seamed stockings. My stomach was tight, my breath hitching in my throat. There was a visible wet patch on my panties. All because of the way he looked, the way he responded to me, and without doubt because I just loved the feel of the silk and lace on my skin. Men’s clothing could never make me feel this way. Just as there on the bed, naked, vulnerable and lost in freefall, Frank was at ease with himself, I too had found a new level of comfort with myself in women’s clothing.

I clambered onto the end of the bed, settling myself between his spread thighs. Slowly I licked one long stripe up the length of his dick, stopping to dip my tongue in the slit, then swirled it around the head, before making the same journey back down. I repeated my slow teasing a few more times, then took his whole length in my mouth bobbing up and down. I had to control myself, he tasted too good, but if I carried on, there was only one possible outcome. He would not be able to hold on. 

Instead, it was time to give Frank a little show. Sitting up on my heels, I began to roll my hips, as I let my hands roam freely over my body, a few low moans escaping my lips as I revelled in the texture of the material against my fingers, enjoying the contrast between the lace and my soft skin. Indeed, I could not hold back any longer. Reaching down into my panties, I curled my fingers around my dick and set a pace I knew would swiftly tip me over the edge. I threw my head back, tangled my fingers in my hair and bucked my hips up into my hand. As I felt that familiar tingle rising to prominence, I crawled further up the bed then tugged the panties down my thighs, so that right at the very height of my pleasure, I could cover my love in everything that I had to give him. 

“This, my beautiful Frankie, is me. The real me. The two of us here, like this…” I gestured to my clothing and his restraints, “this is the deepest, most authentic part of us, our love, our relationship. All of this is here to stay.” I pressed our lips together in a breathless kiss, before readjusting my clothing and sliding down off the bed.

***********************  
He looked beautiful lost somewhere deep in subspace, hair and body drenched in sweat, eyes rolled back in his head, white stripes of my cum dripping down his face, hard cock lying against his stomach, chest heaving from desire and the strain of staying mute and still. I had to savour this moment. I needed to capture every aspect of how he looked right now, so I could faithfully reproduce it in a drawing while he slept.

I caressed his face then leaned in to brush his forehead with my lips. His hands were bound together in front of him, no longer stretched out on either side of him, as I once again attached his collar to the leash. I cupped his beautiful face in my hands, as I cooed, “You did so good, sweetheart. I’m going to clean up, get something to help you come down, then I’m going to clean and patch you up.” 

I paused at the door, making sure that our eyes were locked before delivering my well-rehearsed punchline. “Now, Little One, remember - never again mistake my cross-dressing for weakness.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I really enjoy interacting with people who read my writing, so please comment and let me know what you thought. All constructive comments welcome. Bonus points to anyone who can tell me the bands Gerard is singing along to in the food prep scene - if you get the songs too, then well, maybe I'll gift a little something to you, because there wasn't much to go on!
> 
> I hang out on twitter under @morgawse_hp if you'd like to connect – I promise to follow back. I usually tweet when I post something on here, and then there are the other random rants. I am always open to suggestions for one-shot ideas on Twitter, so feel free to hmu.


End file.
